


The Minister's Secret

by Canimal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Death, Death Eaters, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sexual Content, Stalking, Time Travel, Time Turner, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-19 12:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11313417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canimal/pseuds/Canimal
Summary: The love of the Minister's life disappeared just before the end of the First Wizarding War. When he finds her again, he can hardly trust his sanity. His first action as the new Minister for Magic is to break at least a dozen international laws to bring her home. Hermione soon finds herself in the early 70s surrounded by future followers of the Dark Lord. **Causal Loop Time Travel**





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on FFN. I am the original author and am moving the story over here gradually as I complete the final edits of it. Though I'm not a big fan of the setup of this website, I thought it would be wise to have this cross-posted in case of issues with FFN.
> 
> Comment or not, whatever. To be honest, any "constructive" criticism, either kindly or rudely intended, will be disregarded as this story is almost complete on FFN and whatever chapters are on AO3 will not be updated or changed again. There are problems in the story. As the writer, I'm painfully aware of them already.
> 
> As it may take some time for me to edit this story (as of 6/26/17 it is already 570,000 words), feel free to check out the original on FFN until I'm able to complete my edits.

 

 

 

****

**Disclaimer _:_** Unfortunately, I own nothing and can claim nothing from the Harry Potter Universe. All characters still belong to JK Rowling.

 

**IMPORTANT – PLEASE READ**

**It is my personal choice to not include content warnings at the beginning of chapters for a few reasons. Published books do not have them and I believe that they take away from the spontaneity and surprise of the story. (You read major character death and you spend the entire chapter or story wondering who it is and I feel it's distracting.) That being said, please understand that this story will have some dark elements. This is a story written for Mature audiences only. If you are not an adult, please do not continue.**

**This story may include the following triggers so please be aware: Death (including major character death), murder, violence (possibly graphic), attempted non-con, non-con (I will** **never** **write a graphic non-con scene nor will I glamourize it or fetishize it), domestic violence, miscarriage, sexual situations and drug and alcohol abuse.**

 

* * *

 

 

Chapter One

June 18, 1998

**6:55 am**

The midsummer morning sun shone bright and warm across Hogwarts extensive grounds. Only a few of the volunteers tirelessly working towards bringing the thousand year old castle back into its former glory before the next term began were awake. Hours on the reconstruction project were long and exhausting. It wasn't unusual for the rebuilders to wake up just as the sun was rising and work until long after the sun had gone down. For many it was cathartic to help the almost-sentient castle rebuild itself following the harrowing events six weeks earlier when Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters were once and for all defeated by the young Harry Potter and his supporters. Tents of various sizes had been erected anywhere space could be spared on the grounds. Former students, teachers, Ministry officials, Hogsmeade residents and even a contingent of foreign witches and wizards who felt a loyalty to the fighters of the winning side had been arriving by the Knight Bus load since the end of the final battle. So many felt that they owed the castle and its defenders their time and energy to return it to its former glory. It was one way in which those who had been too cowardly to actually fight had been trying to assuage their guilty consciences.

Hermione Granger woke yet another morning with a crick in her neck and the uncomfortable knowledge that the hardness she was feeling jammed into the small of her back was her overeager boyfriend's perpetual morning erection. It never failed. Even if they worked twenty hours the day before and fell into bed with zero energy, she was going to be woken up by the incessant prodding in her back. She rolled her eyes and tried to slip out of the uncomfortable camp bed that had been transfigured from a single to a double without waking the snoring redhead.

"Where you going?" Ron asked, reaching out a hand to stop her from leaving.

"I can't sleep any longer," she answered. Her annoyance was growing steadily every second she was awake. It had been a long time since she could remember actually getting a good night's sleep.

"Come back to bed."

His hand caught her arm and with a single tug, she was back in the bed next to him. Ron had been insatiable since the night after the Battle for Hogwarts when their mutual grief and sheer relief brought them together for the first time in the most intimate of ways. Hermione regretted the act the instant it was over. Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't really had an opportunity to process it. Ron had been attempting everything he could think of to keep his mind off of the death of his elder brother. He learned that the all-too-brief few minutes he could spend with Hermione in the privacy of their own tent allowed him the chance to forget for just a short time. Knowing that he was not handling Fred's death well, Hermione had been sympathetic even when she wished he would just leave her alone.

"Ron, stop!" she ordered, pushing the redhead's lips away from her neck. She was not in the mood for his overeager pawing that morning.

"What's your problem, 'Mione?" he demanded.

Hermione could sense another argument brewing. That was all they ever seemed to do anymore. Wake up, fight, build, fight, eat, fight, shag, fight, sleep. Repeat the next day. Every single day was exactly the same as the day before. While she understood that they were both under an inordinate amount of stress, she couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life living such a destructive pattern. It would be bloody miserable. She fought to get out of his clutches.

"I don't have a problem, Ronald," she spat. "I just don't want you to grab me like that."

Only a few minutes later after she was completely dressed, Hermione stormed out of their tent. She could not stand another moment in another argument with that infuriating boy. How strange that life had seemed almost easier when they were fighting for their lives as opposed to the weeks following the end. Once the dust settled, problems she had never imagined began to crop up.

She didn't see a single person milling outside their tents during her trek across the grounds. Even with the sun out it was still too early for many of the volunteers to be out of bed. Hermione crossed the grounds towards the Black Lake. She needed to clear her head and stretching her legs would be an added bonus. Along the banks of the shore near the island holding the recently repaired White Tomb, she saw a solitary figure staring off across the lake. At the distance she could've sworn she was seeing Headmaster Dumbledore himself. Shaking her head, certain that she was going round the bend, she realized she was actually seeing Aberforth Dumbledore.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," the wizard greeted when she was within earshot.

"Good morning, Mr. Dumbledore."

She felt guilty interrupting the man in what was obviously a private moment. Aberforth Dumbledore closed the distance of the twenty or thirty feet separating them in only a few short moments. Hermione smiled at the man, hoping that she would be able to slip away quickly. She had never really had a private conversation with him before and part of her wondered why he seemed so eager to change that fact.

"How is the rebuilding?" he asked.

If Hermione had known the man better she might have assumed that he was feeling nervous to speak. His eyes seemed reluctant to meet hers and he was fidgeting with his hands.

"Slowly," she responded. "I'm concerned that we won't be finished before the fall term begins."

"Are you planning on finishing up your last year? Since your education was _interrupted_?"

"Yes. If I want to get a good job, I have to make top scores on my N.E.W.T.s."

Aberforth's loud laughter caught Hermione off guard. A few moments of listening to his ringing chortles made her cheeks flush and her stomach tighten. Why was he laughing at her? There was nothing funny about her education. If she wanted to have a chance at any kind of a successful future, she had to have the right grades. Future life wasn't likely to be easy on the Muggle-born without proper qualifications. How could he not understand that?

"I'm sorry, my girl. I don't mean to laugh, but I find your response amusing."

"How so?" 

She was still offended.

"Now that the war is over, the world is going to be very different. We've been living under the threat of Voldemort for decades. With him gone, the world can be whatever we want it to be. You should only go back to school if it would make you happy."

"How can I expect to be happy if I'm stuck in some nothing job for the rest of my life because I didn't take the time to get the proper qualifications, Mr. Dumbledore?"

He lifted his hand to hang in the air for a moment. It seemed that he was at odds within himself of how to approach her next. Finally, he placed the palm of his hand lightly on her shoulder. Hermione jumped at the contact, but calmed almost immediately. The twinkling in his blue eyes was similar in many ways to his elder brother, yet so very different. With Professor Dumbledore she always felt as if he were keeping something back. With Aberforth Dumbledore, she _knew_ there was more going on behind his warm eyes. What was he hiding?

"You should do what makes _you_ happy, lass. Forget everyone else. It's your life after all."

The next few minutes passed in a series of unimportant small talk questions and comments. She found that her earlier discomfort around the unusual wizard melted away fairly quickly. He was surprisingly easy to talk to when they got started. More than once she found herself laughing out loud at something he'd said.

"You remind me of my daughter," Aberforth announced.

Hermione's eyes widened at the confession. She had no idea that the man even had a daughter. Certainly she had never heard mention of one. Wouldn't there have been some side or footnote in Rita Skeeter's awful book about Professor Dumbledore if he'd had a niece? One wasn't even mentioned in his obituary from what she could remember.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I was unaware you even had a daughter."

A sad smile crossed his bearded face. The twinkle was still present in his eyes, if a bit dimmer. His hand had long ago been removed from her shoulder. He clasped them together and just stared at his fingers before responding.

"I was a sixty-eight year old bachelor without a care in the world when she was born. Bit of a surprise at my age."

"I imagine it would've been."

"Never saw myself as the family man, but I don't regret a moment spent in that beautiful girl's presence."

His sadness was palpable. Hermione wished she hadn't said anything until she realized that _he_ was the one who brought her up first. It must have been a tragedy. She grew sadder thinking about all that this man had suffered in his long life. His sister being attacked by Muggles and his father seeking out revenge before landing himself in Azkaban for the rest of his life. His childhood could not have been easy with keeping his younger sister's condition a secret. His mother dying after an accidental burst of magic from Ariana. His sister dying after the horrible three-way duel between the Dumbledore brothers and Gellert Grindelwald. Nothing about his life seemed to be happy.

"May I ask what happened?"

She was hesitant in her request. He rewarded her with a warm smile.

"She disappeared towards the end of the First War," he explained. "No one is certain what happened. There have been many theories, but I'm not certain what is correct. Her mother was a Lestrange and she was a first cousin to Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange."

That information was surprising. Aberforth Dumbledore had a relationship with a member of that hated family? She would've never guessed.

"She made some unlikely alliances with some unsavory characters," he continued. "Always assumed she put her trust in the wrong Death Eater."

"Your daughter was _friends_ with actual Death Eaters?"

"My dear, she had Death Eaters for _family_. She got caught up in the excitement. She likely even dated a Death Eater or two. I never got all of the details from her. I didn't want them."

Hermione continued to grapple with the information she had just been given. How could Albus Dumbledore's niece get involved, possibly romantically, with the followers of Lord Voldemort? It didn't make sense. Weren't the Dumbledores always a family against the Dark? Her expression didn't fail to elicit a soft laugh from her companion.

"Don't think too harshly of her, lass. It was an exciting time. Dangerous, yes, but exciting. I imagine she got a bit seduced by the dangers. It's happened to the best of us."

For several minutes they continued their walk around the lake in silence. Hermione felt perfectly at ease with the wizard she had only spoken to very briefly on previous occasions. She struggled with what he had just revealed. How could anyone be seduced by the Dark? Her decisions and actions in the past had not always been innocent and pure, of course, but she couldn't imagine willingly seeking out those who were interested in Dark magic. She shook her head physically to banish reminders of the darkness she had within herself. Wasn't she responsible for leading Dolores Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest her fifth year knowing full well what centaurs did with captured human women?

"The first time I saw you and your little mates walk into my pub for your little defense group meeting, I thought I was seeing a ghost."

Aberforth smiled. The twinkle was back in his eyes, all traces of sadness absent.

"I'm very pleased that you made it out all right," he added.

They said their goodbyes soon after. Aberforth urged her to come by his pub later after she was done for the day for a stiff drink. He said that she looked like she needed one. Unsure how to respond to that statement, she simply smiled and promised she would try. One more smile sent in her direction from the wizard and they parted.

Ron was awake when she stopped by the tent after her surprisingly enjoyable conversation with Aberforth. Her good mood vanished almost immediately after her boyfriend began demanding to know where she had been. Was she expected to tell him every single thing that she did and saw each day? If so, it was going to be a long life. She was unused to being held accountable for how she spent every second of the day. After a few terse words, she stormed back out of the tent.

She had been able to make good progress the day before in repairing the damage to the third floor corridor with help from Oliver Wood. He was able to take some time off from his Quidditch training to help and had been an eager participant. The Keeper was already in place repairing more of the shattered windows when she arrived. They exchanged a quick greeting before returning to the therapeutic work. Very few words passed between them for hours at a time. Whatever Oliver was dealing with personally was his business just as Hermione's was hers. They were both using the work to distract themselves.

"Think I'm done for now," Oliver announced just as the sun was setting.

Hermione stretched the tired muscles in her back. Though she still wasn't ready to face Ron after their morning row, she was done as well. She checked in her pocket for her beaded bag. Satisfied that she had everything she needed, she climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. She had been pleased to learn in the early days following the battle that no damage had been done to the prefects' bathroom. While the enormous bathtub would certainly be almost decadent on her sore limbs and back, she opted for the faster option of a hot shower.

Once she was dressed and her hair charmed to be somewhat less messy, she made the decision to sneak down to the village. Aberforth's invitation was very attractive when the alternative was likely another row with Ron. No one tried to impede her progress across the grounds. Travelling alone down the path to Hogsmeade was a little nerve-wracking at night, but she was determined to no longer live in fear. With her wand clasped firmly in her hand, she braved the darkness. Most of the escaped Death Eaters had been caught by then. Surely none would be foolish enough to travel so close to the castle with its grounds full.

The Hog's Head was almost empty when she pushed the heavy door open. It had never been a very popular pub, but the usual shady patrons had been avoiding the area since the battle. Aberforth spotted her immediately. A bright smile lit up his face and he waved her over to the bar. She was only inches from the open seat he was pointing to when she realized the wizard seated at the bar was none other than the newest Minister for Magic himself.

Kingsley spun around at her approach. His hand was full of a glass that was undoubtedly a fire whiskey. When he realized who he was seeing, his entire face lit up with his familiar smile. Hermione felt her cheeks flush at the attention. Both wizards seemed pleased to see her. Kingsley reached across the space between them to kiss her cheek in greeting.

"Good evening, Minister."

She hadn't heard his loud, booming laughter in a very long time. Maybe since the last time they were all gathered at Grimmauld Place during the war. It was a sound she had not even realized she missed.

" _Kingsley_ , Hermione," he corrected. "Anyone who fought Voldemort and the Death Eaters with me on the back of a thestral can bugger off with the fancy titles."

"Aren't you too important now to drink with the masses?" she teased.

"I'm enjoying the company just fine, thank you. My darling, you are now more famous than I am and Aberforth is practically family."

Aberforth laughed and poured Hermione a generous glass of fire whiskey. She was nervous about the drink. Her only experience with it was a horrible night during the horcrux hunt when Ron stumbled upon Sirius' hidden stash. She sipped at the glass, enjoying the laughter between the two wizards.

"You _wish_ you could be a member of the illustrious Dumbledore family," Aberforth replied.

"Yes, Ab, I do. Every single damned day."

Kingsley turned to smile at Hermione. She felt her stomach swoop at the gesture. Had he always been that attractive? _Not that it matters, Granger._ She was fairly certain that his affections were situated elsewhere. His statement sounded strange to her ears. Was he trying to admit to being in love with a Dumbledore? _Maybe he and the Professor were closer than any of us realized._

"I was madly in love with Ab's daughter," Kingsley clarified. "Desperate to marry her. I think I was pretty close to getting her to agree before she, well…"

His smile was still across his devastatingly handsome face, but it didn't reach his tear-filled eyes. Hermione was surprised by his admission. She had always assumed…

"Oh," she replied without thinking about her tone.

"What?" Kingsley asks.

She could feel her cheeks burning in embarrassment again. Should she just come right out and admit what she had been thinking?

"I'm sorry. It's nothing."

"Out with it, Hermione."

She was mortified. Kingsley's impish grin meant that he wasn't going to simply drop the subject. Finally, she just decided to come right out and say what she was thinking.

"I always assumed you were gay."

It was spoken in an extremely soft whisper, but both men heard. Aberforth and Kingsley made eye contact before bursting out in boisterous laughter. Both men were wiping the tears away from their eyes when they finally had enough control to stop.

"I'm sorry," Hermione added. "I just couldn't ever figure out why I'd never seen you with a witch before. It wasn't too far of a stretch to assume the gorgeous, unattached wizard wasn't interested in women."

"You have always been a natty dresser, Kings," laughed Aberforth.

Hermione didn't miss the heat suddenly present in Kingsley's eyes. She was certain he had never looked at her so intensely before. It made her uncomfortable in a manner that wasn't wholly unpleasant.

"You think I'm gorgeous?"

Kingsley winked. Hermione rolled her eyes. He began chuckling again at her response.

"You know you are, Kingsley. Stop fishing for compliments when I've already given you one."

Aberforth's laughter brought another smile to Hermione's face. She loved the sound. Kingsley simply stared at her with another wistful expression that made her uncomfortable yet again. What had changed between them since the war's end? They used to be able to sit across from each other at the table in the Black kitchen with a cup of tea and talk for hours about any number of topics. Not once did he ever look at her the way he was looking at her in that moment. She cleared her throat.

"So was it love at first sight?" she asked.

Both men burst out in another round of laughter.

"Absolutely not!" answered Aberforth. "What did she call you, son?"

"An arrogant berk who showed promise of one day being handsome if some exasperated witch didn't hex my face out of sheer frustration," Kingsley answered, the wistful expression back on his countenance.

"That's a lot to remember," Hermione said.

"She was unforgettable."

Kingsley downed the rest of his whiskey in a single swallow. Hermione felt a sharp pang of guilt at bringing up what was obviously a painful past. She excused herself to visit the loo to give him the chance to not have a practical stranger watch him in his moment of pain. Though they had known each other for years and even fought side by side in battle, she realized she knew very little about the man. The realization of her ignorance made her a bit sad.

Several minutes later she prepared herself for reentering the main room of the pub. In her absence all of the other patrons left. It was growing late after all. She was about to step out of the corridor into the main room when she heard the two men arguing in hushed tones. Despite knowing that eavesdropping was wrong, she couldn't help herself. Something instinctually kept from her stepping out of the darkness.

"It has to be tonight, Ab," Kingsley insisted. "If it's not, we risk ruining the whole timeline."

"I'm not sure about this. What if it doesn't work?"

"It will work! I've had the Unspeakables working on nothing else for weeks. Don't you want your daughter back?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then we have to act tonight."

Hermione couldn't make any sense of what they were saying. How could the Unspeakables bring back Aberforth's daughter? No one was certain what had even happened to her. It made her stomach twist and clench with the concern that both men were likely grasping at straws. Aberforth's daughter was most likely dead and most likely had been for many, many years. She cleared her throat loudly before stepping out of the corridor. Both men instantly stopped talking. Aberforth looked worried. Kingsley looked determined.

When she approached the bar, Kingsley rose to his feet. At a couple of inches taller than six feet, he easily towered over her much smaller frame. He held a thick envelope in his hand.

"Hermione, would you be kind enough to take this envelope up to the castle when you return?"

She accepted the envelope. Once it was safely stowed in her front pocket she smiled and agreed. Kingsley leaned down to kiss her cheek once more.

"I very much look forward to seeing you again soon, Little Witch."

Kingsley nodded silently in Aberforth's direction before stepping out into the cool night air. Hermione felt it was getting too late to stay much longer. The epic row she was anticipating with Ron couldn't be put off indefinitely. When she suggested to Aberforth that she follow Kingsley's lead and head back, he stopped her.

"May I show you something in the back?" he asked.

She willingly followed the man back into the room she had only been in once. Memories of the night of the final battle were thick in the space. She glanced up to the frame hanging above the fireplace that had once been a hidden entrance to the castle. Ariana's portrait smiled at the visitor and waved. Hermione easily returned the gesture. She stood uneasily in the private sanctum of Aberforth's private quarters. He was quietly cursing to himself as he dug through a messy drawer.

Finally, he pulled a leather bound album from its hiding place. Gesturing towards the single sofa in the room, he sat next to Hermione. She understood within moments that he was holding a valued photo album. His quick flips through the pages passed by revealed only glimpses of photos from his past. Once or twice she thought she recognized Albus or Ariana, but those were not the photos he was interested in. A bright grin spread across his face when the album was opened in the center.

"You might be interested in seeing this."

Aberforth held open the album to a large photograph containing a familiar face. A younger Kingsley, aged only about twenty or twenty-one at most, was staring at the girl in the photograph with a besotted expression of content on his striking features. Apparently he had always been gorgeous. Hermione hardly thought that was fair. The woman in the photo had her back to the camera for the first few moments of the loop. Her thick, brown, curly hair seemed awfully familiar to Hermione, but she certainly didn't think too much on that fact. Lots of people had curly hair.

When she rotated in place to face the camera, Hermione gasped. Aberforth hadn't been joking when he said that she reminded him of his daughter. It was too easy to see the resemblance. The smiling witch in the photograph could have been Hermione's twin. They looked exactly alike. Hermione felt as if this was a glimpse of what she would look like when she was a few years older.

"Please forgive me, lass."

Aberforth's whispered apology startled Hermione enough that the leather album fell from her hands to crash on the floor. What could he possibly have done to need her clemency? Not a single word escaped her lips before he threw a heavy chain around her head. She felt the weight of a pendant land on her chest before the room began to spin with a frightening speed. Blurry images and muffled sounds exploded around the room. She tried to stand from the sofa, afraid she was going to be ill. Her feet seemed to be unable to hold her body weight up any longer.

Moments after she stood, she crashed to the ground hitting her head on the way down. The images continued to spin around her with a frightening rapidity until she lost complete consciousness.


	2. Chapter Two

****

Chapter Two

June 18, 1971

**_11:54 pm_ **

An army of tiny elves beating pots and pans together in her head woke Hermione up from the peace of unconsciousness. Or at least that seemed to be the only excuse she could figure out to explain her pounding headache. The average human head weighs about eleven pounds, but she was absolutely certain her head must be thrice that heavy at least. She carefully opened her heavy eyelids to reacquaint herself with her surroundings.

Except she was positive she had never been inside that room before. The walls were covered in dark paneling, smoke stains littered the ceiling. While the mattress she was lying on wasn't terribly comfortable, the warm, handmade quilt covering her brought back happy memories of weekends spent with her Grannie Granger. A lingering mixture of odd smells that seemed almost to be a combination of fire whiskey and feta assaulted her nose. She couldn't remember how she ended up in the strange, but cozy bedroom. Fears of the unknown encouraged her to attempt to sit up. Warm hands gently pushed her back down before she made any hint of progress.

"Careful there, lass. You really struck your head. Best not to move too much just yet."

She was able to turn her cumbersome head slightly just enough to take in the form of Aberforth Dumbledore seated on the edge of her bed. Something about him seemed odd, however. Seemed _off_. Hermione blinked her eyes multiple times to cut back on the wooziness she was experiencing and to attempt to bring him into focus. He seemed different from their earlier walk by the lake and from her visit to his pub. It required several more determined blinks before she realized his beard was less full than it had been and more black than gray. How was it possible that the lines around his twinkling eyes seemed less deep? Had he taken some kind of youth regenerating potion she was unaware of? He looked almost thirty years younger than he had earlier in the evening.

A more realistic explanation for why he appeared different was simply that Hermione was finally losing her mind. Long considered her finest asset, she had always been afraid that one day her sanity and logic would simply begin to slip through her fingers like sand. Perhaps all of the strain and stress she'd been under the past few years made her worse nightmare a frightening reality.

"What happened, Mr. Dumbledore?" 

She was afraid of his answer.

"I was hoping you might be able to enlighten me. What do you remember last?"

Hermione struggled to remember all of the details. The pain coursing through her head was making all coherent thought damn near impossible. Bits and pieces of the time spent in the main room of the Hog's Head slowly began to piece themselves together. She remembered moving to the private area of the building after the Minister left.

"We were sitting in the room with Ariana's portrait and you were showing me a photo album. You asked me to forgive you before you put a chain over my head." 

She was astonished that the more she revealed, the clearer the details became. Maybe she wasn't losing her mind after all.

"What happened when the chain was placed around your neck?"

"The room began to spin and I fell."

Hermione noticed the wizard seated on the edge of the unfamiliar bed appeared conflicted. Once she gave her limited details of the truly bizarre evening she had just experienced, Aberforth dropped his eyes to his hands. There was something in those calloused hands that captured his attention. A few tense minutes passed before he held up one of his hands to allow a gold chain to slip between his long fingers. She gasped when the object dangling at the end of the ornate and most likely costly chain came into focus.

"Is that a time turner?" she asked in a whisper.

Aberforth sighed, his eyes trained on the old bits and bobs swinging back and forth.

"Appears to be.Never seen one up close before. Read about them in a book once. You ever used one before, lass?"

He held the time turner out to hold. She was more than just a little bit nervous about holding another one in her hand. The moment she made the decision to turn hers back over to Professor McGonagall at the end of her third year, she swore to herself she would never touch one again. Too much messing about with time was dangerous. While she was still grateful for the opportunity to save an innocent man from the Dementor's Kiss, she didn't care for the power that handling such a powerful relic could provide. Time should be treated with more respect than that.

She carefully examined the intricate time turner in her hand. While it was similar to her old one in many ways, the sand within its glass was a completely different color. Minuscule purple grains twinkled in the shadowy light of the fire. Whatever their properties were, it was obvious that the difference in the color must be at least part of the reason why she was able to move back in time years, instead of hours. Her mind was still grappling with the fact that she had moved through time at all.Aberforth's drastic change in appearance was startling. Around the edge of the turner was an inscription. In the dim light it was impossible to read it clearly. Hermione removed her wand from her pocket to cast a weak 'lumos'.

"'Till a' the seas gang dry’.”

"Robert Burns," Aberforth explained. "The Scottish poet."

Hermione tried to remember everything she knew about Muggle poetry. She had very little knowledge to her great disappointment. There had always been much more fascinating subjects and topics to explore once she learned she was a witch. With her limited knowledge about Aberforth Dumbledore as well, she was quite surprised to learn that he _was_ familiar with Muggle poets. Her countenance must have given away her incredulity. Aberforth chuckled.

"I may not seem the type, lass, but I _do_ read," he said, his low chuckle making her smile. "And you don't live in Scotland for almost eighty years without learning who the Bard of Ayrshire was. Peculiar line to engrave."

"Why? What does it mean?" 

Hermione was not one to turn down an opportunity to learn when it was freely offered. Not even when she was in a strange room with a practical stranger unaware of even what _year_ she was in.

"One of his most famous love poems. 'And I will luve thee still, my dear / Till a' the seas gang dry'."

Hermione couldn't understand why anyone would take the time to inscribe a time turner with lines from an old poem. She ran her fingers over the inscription as if touch would make it all clear. Aberforth's earlier question about whether or not she had ever used a time turner still hung in the air. Hermione wasn't sure if she should answer or not about her use during school. Before she was allowed its use, she was required to make a promise she would never tell anyone, but Professor Dumbledore was dead and Harry and Professor McGonagall already knew. She couldn't really see the harm if one more person knew about her past.

"Yes, sir. I used one in my third year at Hogwarts to help me take extra classes."

Aberforth was angry at her confession, but he took strides to remain as calm as possible. Only the clenching of his jaw proved he was upset.

"You mean my brother allowed a child to use a dangerous magical artifact like this so you could attend _extra classes_?"

Hermione could only nod her head in the affirmative. She did not have anything else to add. It _had_ been a poor decision on the Headmaster's part. A great deal could have gone wrong if it had fallen into anyone else's hands.

"You don't look like a third year. How old are you? Still in school?"

"I will be nineteen in September, but I never had my seventh year because of the war."

As soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, she wished she could pull them back. She realized too late that perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned the war. It was not safe for her to reveal too much about the future. Aberforth rolled his eyes.

"You think I'm daft, lass? I can sense a war coming. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. Is it a bloody, long one?"

"Yes, sir. Both."

"Of course it is. That's what happened when a couple of muckety muck wizards think they knew better than the rest of us common folk. I don't even have to ask. This has the stink of my brother all over it."

Hermione was unsure of what to say. In her third year she read every single book about time travel that she could get her hands on. There, unfortunately, weren't that many. Some theorized that time was linear, others that time was a loop. A few offered the theory of alternate realities that only served to make Hermione's head hurt. But one thing they all agreed on was that it was unwise and possibly detrimental to reveal too much about the future. Irrevocable changes could be made if a time traveler was not cautious.

She was also surprised that Aberforth seemed to be taking her word that she had travelled back in time with his older counterpart's assistance. She would have imagined he would have been harder to convince. After all, it's likely not every day that an unconscious teenage girl shows up in your parlor claiming to be from the future.

"Did you have an accident with that _thing_? Fall or something hit it?'

Hermione shook her head.

"No, sir. It's not even mine. _You_ were the one who put it around my neck. I mean, not _you_ , but older you."

Aberforth removed an envelope from his pocket. It had already been opened. He put a pair of glasses on that made him look even more like a raven haired facsimile of his older brother to read a thick letter.

" _Why_ would you have done that, sir?" Hermione asked, still bewildered by the events.

Aberforth groaned at her question before peering over the top of his glasses.

"First, quit calling me 'sir' like I'm some bleeding professor. You want one of those, you go up the path to the castle and find my brother. Second, I wouldn't know why I did, err, _will do_ something in the future, now will I?"

A sudden influx of emotion made Hermione's tired eyes fill up with burning tears. She was so lost as to what she should do. Never before had she been as frightened as she was of the unknown. Not wishing her host to think her some weak, swoon-prone female, she attempted to hide her tears. Aberforth was not fooled. He conjured a clean handkerchief for her and gently pat her hand.

"There, there, child. We'll get this all sorted out. 1971 hasn't been the worst of years. I imagine it's similar to…" He peered closer at the parchment. "…1998."

Hermione's stomach lurched and breathing became much more difficult. She could not believe that the time turner took her back in time twenty-seven years! She did not even understand how that was even possible. Her old time turner could not go back any further than five hours. Maybe the difference in the sand color was what determined how far back she could travel. Memories of the day that had come to be known as the Battle of the Department of Mysteries popped into her mind. The never-ending loop of the time turners falling effectively made the entire stock of time turners in the Ministry completely useless. Maybe one of those time turners had been capable of moving back in time more than just a few hours. Could someone within the Department of Mysteries have figured out a way to end the endless loop? There were so many questions that seemed to have no answers.

"What are you reading?" she asked, curious what had the wizard's attention.

"There was a letter addressed to me in your pocket. Thought you were a messenger at first, but couldn't understand how you ended up passed out in my parlor. I would've remembered serving a young woman like you too much alcohol in the main room. Found the letter when I was looking for some identification."

"This is all so bizarre. How do you even trust it? I'm not sure I trust my own sanity at this point."

"It was sealed to be opened only by me. It's a spell I created in school. No one else could have known it. Also, old codger me put in some bits of trivia that no one else would believe. Even put in here a description of how I spent my evening earlier and I know _no one_ else could know could know that."

Hermione's curiosity was piqued.

"What were you doing earlier?"

His cheeks flushed.

"Never you mind! The envelope also had a weightless and undetectable extension charm on it. Found a fancy pensieve inside and a few memories that were or _will be_ mine."

All of that was inside the single envelope she had in her pocket? Kingsley had given it to her to take up to the castle. He must have known that she would never make it out of the pub that night. Both of the wizards were in on the conspiracy. She began to feel a bubble of anger towards the Minister simmer inside her. How dare he take it upon himself to force such a drastic change to her life? And forcing Aberforth to take part? She knew that Kingsley had access to what would be needed to undertake such a complicated endeavor. There was no telling what kinds of magical artifacts and knowledge the Minister for Magic could access.

Hermione just could not understand _why_ he would plan with Aberforth to send her back in time twenty-seven years. Was she supposed to change something? The war was over where they lived. The threat of Voldemort was once and forever gone. What could they possibly gain by having her thrown out of her own lifetime? She had more questions than answers. In that moment all she wanted to do was return to the future and give the Minister a piece of her mind. She was not a pawn to be moved about the chess board at his leisure. Kingsley would have a great deal of explaining to do when she got home. _If_ she ever got home.

"Do you know how I can get back?"

Aberforth seemed reluctant to answer her seemingly simple question. Hermione was nervous that that must mean she was doomed to remain stuck in the past forever. By the time she returned to her normal time, she would already be forty-eight years old! She would be almost forty when her other self began Hogwarts. Assuming of course that she could exist in the same timeline as her baby self. Would she disappear on September 19, 1979 when her mother gave birth? There were so many unknowns her head was hurting even more just contemplating them. Despite her efforts to hide her tears, they continued to slide down her cheeks.

"Letter says that you disappear at Christmastime in 1980, but no one knows what happened to you," Aberforth explained, looking for some information he could give that might calm her down.

Of course that was the worst possible news she could have received. No one knew what happened to her? How could she just disappear? Hermione couldn't breathe. Not only was she going to be stuck in the past for _nine_ years, but she wasn't even sure what was going to happen to her. The very real possibility that she was going to die in the past made her stomach churn. History was full of disappearances in 1980. Apparently she was doomed to be just another one. No one knew what happened to so many during the height of the first war. Even Aberforth's own daughter disappeared without a trace.

She wondered why Kingsley even bothered to send her in the past. The Minister for Magic was obviously the leader behind this horrible plan. Maybe he thought Hermione could find his lost love. She hoped there was more of an explanation in the letter Aberforth wrote himself. There had to be some kind of plan. Kingsley would not have forced the younger Dumbledore brother to do something so dangerous without a valid reason.

"What else does the letter say?"

Aberforth was reluctant once again to answer. Albus wasn't the only Dumbledore with a penchant for keeping secrets.

"I've told myself to keep all of the contents of this letter private. I shouldn't have told you that part about your disappearance."

"Do you explain how I can get back to my own time?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't know. All I know is you are to keep the time turner with you at all times. You must keep it out of the hands of anyone who would use it for the wrong purpose. Keep it with you, lass, at all times. Show it to no one."

He was fairly empathetic in his instructions to keep the time turner secret. Hermione thought it unnecessary. She had already had a similar conversation with Professor McGonagall years earlier.

"Is there an explanation in the letter as to _why_ the Minister made you send me back in time?" Hermione asked. Before Aberforth had a chance to answer, she continued. "Kingsley told me that he was in love with your daughter, Mr. Dumbledore. Maybe this has something to do with her."

Aberforth's brow furrowed at her theory.

"Afraid that doesn't make any sense. I _do_ have a daughter. She's about your age. Her mum just died a year ago. Sought my girl out. Hoped she might want to come home with me. I'd already missed so much of her life. She doesn't want anything to do with me and has no plans to ever come to Britain. She's off running around some magical rainforest."

If Aberforth's daughter had no intention of ever returning, how was it possible that Kingsley fell in love with her? Hermione didn't understand. There had to be a reason she was sent back. Every single thought that passed through her mind only served to intensify her pounding headache. She was growing weary. Her head wound was making staying awake harder.

"What should I do while I'm stuck here?"

"Maybe we should go up to the castle and get my brother's opinion on this situation."

Hermione no longer trusted Albus Dumbledore. Years earlier she would have claimed that she trusted the Headmaster implicitly. Certain events and long kept secrets that had recently came to light following the end of the war called her former blind trust in the wizard into question. After finding out how manipulative and devious the man could be, she knew that he was the last person she would ever want to trust with her secret. She could not forgive him for knowingly protecting Harry just so he could die at the right time. He was responsible for giving her best friend a terrible childhood at the hands of abusive and neglectful relatives. She knew that if Dumbledore was aware that she was from the future and knew about key events in the upcoming war, he would use whatever calculating skills he possessed to make her knowledge _his_ knowledge. She refused to allow him to use her for the Greater Good.

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, startling Aberforth by her vehemence. "We will _not_ get Albus Dumbledore involved in this. He cannot know anything about the future. He can't be relied upon.”

* * *

 

 

June 18, 1998

**_11:00 pm_ **

Kingsley paced outside the front of the Hog's Head for several minutes. Walking away from Hermione in that moment had been one of the hardest decisions he had ever had to make. He knew that he was responsible for making sure that she somehow made her way into the past. He'd known that he was going to have to do that for years, since one of the first times he ever saw her fifteen year old self in Grimmauld Place. _That_ had been an experience he would never forget.

He could feel his blood pressure rising to an unhealthy level. At forty-four years old he was still considered a young wizard, but he was determined that his new position behind a desk wouldn't make him go soft. Years as an auror meant that he was in peak physical condition. Only periods of great stress caused the Shacklebolt family history of high blood pressure to make itself known in the youngest member. He was questioning his decision to send the love of his life back in time. Maybe it hadn't been necessary. He saw the way she was looking at him when they were seated at the bar. _Maybe_ the eighteen year old Hermione would have been interested in him.

"Except you're an old man compared to her," he muttered to the cool night air. "She has her whole life ahead of her. Why would she want you?"

Kingsley stared down at his watch. If Aberforth kept to the plan, she would be disappearing before his very eyes at any moment. Assuming, of course, that the old man didn't lose his nerve. They had been arguing about this night for weeks. The night after the end of the Battle for Hogwarts Kingsley got absolutely pissed at the Hog's Head. He should have set a better example as the Interim Minister for Magic, but in that moment, he did not care about his image. Voldemort had been a threat for most of his life. He was the reason that Hermione disappeared only days before he had planned to propose. His grandmother's ring had been burning a hole in his pocket for months while he waited for the right moment. If he had known that she would never show up for their Christmas Eve date, he would've asked sooner.

Aberforth dragged him into Hermione's old bedroom to sleep off his bender. When he finally woke up over twelve hours later, he made the decision to send her back in time. He’d already stolen the time turner.Just simply hadn’t had the courage to use it.If he didn’t send her back, they wouldn't have met before the reforming of the Order of the Phoenix. He had been unwilling to give her up. 

They sat over a hot omelet made with entirely too much goat cheese to discuss the plan he'd come up with. Aberforth had never divulged the details of _how_ she was sent back to 1971, but Kingsley could not imagine any other way it could have been possible without the assistance of the Unspeakables.

Every Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries had been required to take an Unbreakable Oath that they would not divulge the time travel research they were undertaking. They were all breaking countless laws to even contemplate sending an unsuspecting witch back in time almost three decades. Aberforth had been a difficult sell. They'd argued for hours before he finally agreed to take part. But only after he'd punched the newest Minister in the face _twice_.

At ten minutes after eleven he pushed open the front door to the pub. Directing his steps straight towards the back parlor, he spent the few moments taking repeated deep breaths. Aberforth was seated on the sofa flipping through a leather album. Kingsley could tell he was upset by his red eyes and trembling hands.

"Is she gone?"

"Yes, she's gone."

Aberforth threw the album across the room. It smashed into the fireplace mantle, startling Ariana. He rose to his full, intimidating height to glare at the younger wizard.

"I cannot believe I let you talk me into doing something so foolish, son! This is madness. How do we even know the damned thing works?"

Kingsley retrieved the discarded album off the floor. He opened it to the page with a photograph of Hermione taken at her cousin's wedding. She was dressed in a deep blue dress and was laughing at something she was looking at off-camera. Kingsley remembered that night like it had just happened the day before. They had their first dance. He had almost kissed her for the first time too. They were alone behind one of the ornate topiary sculptures in the Lestrange Estate’s formal gardens. His lifelong hatred for Dolohov only intensified that night when he appeared out of nowhere to ruin the moment. He ran his fingers over the photo before closing the album shut.

"I know it works because this morning I snuck into the Ministry of Magic's London office in the early hours of June 18, 1971."

Aberforth's eyes widened at Kingsley's confession. The Minister simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Looks like we've been using the same security badges for at least the last thirty years. We should really look into updating our security protocol."

"Why were you there?"

"You didn't actually think I would allow my Little Witch to use the blasted time turner without making sure it works first, did you? I got into the Ministry, did what I needed to do and made certain the modifications our Unspeakables made would allow for forward time travel. Obviously I was successful."

He didn't want to admit that the entire experience had been utterly terrifying. Every second that passed he had been certain the experiment had been a failure. Once he landed in the past he promptly threw up all over the alley behind the Ministry employee entrance. The return trip had been even worse.

"What were you doing in the Ministry?" inquired Aberforth, still not satisfied with Kingsley's previous answer.

"Broke into the Hall of Records. Performed a few spells. The Lestrange family tapestry should have updated the moment Hermione arrived."

"You did what?"

"I charmed a few records to make her the legal daughter of Aberforth Dumbledore and Roesia Lestrange."


End file.
